The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear

Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse

Book II

The Invisible Chains

Part 2

Bonds of Fear

Andrew Ashling

Ormidon Publishing

Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse — Book II

The Invisible Chains — Part 2: Bonds of Fear

Andrew Ashling

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and

incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used

fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance

to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is

entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced

in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the

case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Ebooks are not transferable and may not be sold, shared or given

away, as this would be an infringement on the copyright of this work.

Ormidon Publishing

Cover design by Nanna Küsgen

Copyright © 2011 by Andrew Ashling

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Andrew Ashling

Bonds of Fear

5

Chapter 1:

When Doubt Creeps In

“Your secrets taste more watered down each time, but your food was

excellent as usual, Mandigaill the Hunter. In spite of your protestations

and glaring display of disgust you are here again.”

...

“Yes, I can see how you could find it difficult to decide which is the

fallen prince. After all, you are ruled by your primitive emotions, your

short memory, bad appraisal skills, and mediocre intelligence. All of

which doesn’t prevent you from being quick and arrogantly harsh in

your unjustified judgment. And being annoyingly loud about it.”

...

“I’ve heard your weak reasoning and your manifestations of cheap

indignation before, and even the first time they bored me beyond

measure. But I’ll grant you that all you say is very plausible, very

credible, very reasonable and very logical. And very wrong.”

...

“We’ll see soon enough. Now, undress and sit down on the stool.”

...

“Yes, that is the same stool. If the knob seems longer, that is because

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it is longer.”

...

“An inch or two, maybe more. Yes, and somewhat thicker, too.”

...

“No, don’t worry. People are more flexible in more places than you

would imagine. It is all a question of motivation. Do you want to hear

the rest of the story?”

...

“Then slide yourself over it and sit down. Just... spread yourself.”

Bonds of Fear

7

“This one is going to break hearts when he grows up,” he had

heard one of the two women who cleaned his room say, giggling to

the other.

He hadn’t exactly paid it much attention at the time, he was only

five after all, but it had stuck in the back of his head nevertheless. Only

a few years later, when he had looked in a mirror, it had struck him

that his features were not only very regular, but extremely pleasing

to the eye. He also began to notice that people treated him differently.

Of course, by now he knew that his father was the most important

man of the whole barony and that some of that importance rubbed

off on him. But there seemed to be more involved than that.

Still a few years later — he was eleven by now — he began to

notice a strange quality in the looks people gave him when they

thought he wasn’t paying attention to them. At first it was difficult

to place, but gradually it became clear to him that it was a mixture of

reverence and desire. By now he had begun to compare himself with

the few boys his father allowed him to have as friends, companions

really, and he noticed that he was, not to put too fine a point on it,

perfect. From his thick, raven black, shiny hair, over his face with

the full eyebrows, the dark brown, languishing eyes, the perfectly

formed nose, the sensual mouth and pearly teeth, over his hairless,

delicately muscled chest, down to his generously sized member and

muscular legs. Even his feet, usually not a man’s best feature, were

beautiful.

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More importantly, all this proved to be very useful. People would

do little things for him, just to make him smile at them, and he began

to experiment with asking for more, until he had perfected the art of

combining a slight tilt of the head with a smile that promised heaven

and eyes that radiated an inviting sensuality. It brought him time

upon time the desired result.

By thirteen he had seduced the man his father had hired to

instruct him in ancient Boltac. He had done it just to see if he could,

and he had dropped him as soon as he was certain he could reduce

a grown man to tears, simply by withholding his favors. The man

decided to resign his post, just too late to prevent him from fucking

his eleven year old son, as the teacher found out when he walked in on

them. He had smiled his enchanting smile and soundlessly mouthed

for the man to join them. Instead the teacher had run away with a

horrible cry of disgust and despair. He had calmed the disturbed boy

lying under him and finished fucking him till he came.

He soon made another discovery. He was undeniably smarter, a

lot smarter, than all the other boys his age and even most grown ups.

He began to read voraciously, and all that he read he absorbed like

a sponge. It was not only that he could almost verbatim reproduce

what he had taken in, but he also understood its deeper meaning.

By fourteen he had taken stock of his position in life, and he was

more than satisfied with the conclusions he came to. He was extremely

intelligent, irresistibly handsome, very rich, and he belonged to the

ruling class of the country. This was a very promising start in life, he

decided, and it would be a shame if he didn’t exploit this merging of

fortuities through lack of ambition.

There were a few snags here and there, but that was only to be

expected. His father didn’t lack the drive to try to aggrandize his

Bonds of Fear

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House, but he definitely hadn’t the necessary intelligence nor the

required wisdom. What he had however was the money, for the time

being. A situation, he mused, that should correct itself over time. He

could only hope his father wouldn’t have the luck to have his lack of

brains being compensated by longevity. As he was an only child and

his charms, minus the sexual component, seemed to work equally

well on his parents, his future seemed, well... golden was definitely

the word.

Another nettlesome problem lay in the fact that the family was

of relatively recent nobility and had only reached the status of

baronetcy. This wouldn’t do. Not at all. He estimated that he was at

least worth a duchy, say a peer of the realm. From then on, who knew?

His extensive reading had taught him that the reigning Tanahkos

dynasty was very recent on the throne. In fact, the current monarch

wasn’t even born a prince. What had happened less than forty years

ago could very well happen again.

When his father announced that he had procured him a place

as page at Prince Anaxantis’s court, high up in the North, he had

looked with genuine admiration at his sire. For once the old man

had managed to bring home the bacon. He saw the possibilities

immediately. Prince Anaxantis was the youngest of the potential

heirs, but rumor had it that he had already eliminated one of his

brothers. A kindred spirit. While the army in the south was on the

defensive and played the waiting game, the prince had a far more

aggressive strategy. He had heard with envy the news of how he had

subdued the duchy of Landemere. This was most certainly someone

to keep an eye on.

Interestingly enough, more vague rumors indicated that his

highness was not impervious to manly charms, of which, as chance

would have it, he had an abundant supply, and he had no moral

qualms whatsoever to dispense them liberally if the occasion called

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for it. That the prince himself had the reputation of being handsome

and was barely two years older would make the task even less